His Beating Heart
by x-xMasqueradeAngelx-x
Summary: Set during and after the events of Relevés, this story will be one of bonds made, love tested and the lengths that Hannibal Lecter is willing to go to, in order to protect the one girl who captivated him. Abigail Hobb's/Hannibal Lecter possible Will Graham/Alana Bloom in later chapters. M rated.
1. The Captivation of Hannibal Lecter

**Good Evening Ladies and Gentlemen! For those of you who are not familiar with my prior works, I am x-xMasqueradeAngelx-x and this is the first chapter of my newest fanfic based on this years TV series of Hannibal.**

**I usually try to update my fanfiction's weekly but sometimes this has to be stretched out to a fortnight to comply with the amount of orders I get on my Etsy store and to allow for updating other fanfiction's and writing new chapters for the novel I am working on.**

**I will delete and/or report reviewers who leave flames. I don't believe there is any need for them on Fanfiction.**

**PLEASE NOTE - This fanfic takes place during and after the events of Episode 12 Relevés. So if you have not watched up until the end of Episode 12, this Fanfic will contain spoilers.**

**Now that all that stuff is out of the way; please enjoy!**

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Minnesota. The skies grey and bleak as ever, welcomed Hannibal Lecter into there midst. As he got out of his car and shut the door behind him, he looked up to the three bedroomed bungalow that had once housed the Hobb's family. It seemed trivial really; the way people became attached to such things, simply by making connections through memories long since past. But still; Hannibal did the same even now, the air that had engulfed him that morning was one filled with many interesting elements. Curiosities. He was a one manned audience to the events that happened there that day. It almost disappointed him as much as it did quietly surprise him.

Garrett Jacob Hobb's was such a painfully careless man. He may have taken care to honour every part of his killings, but at what cost? He was a man; desperate to end his story the way he had planned it. His final act, however, was ultimately his downfall. Hannibal had given him the time and the means to get out. But instead, his choices lay with the ultimate sacrifice, his daughter. The one thing that stood between them, naturally, was her mother. He remembered the scent that impaired the otherwise calming fragrances that hung in the air. Slightly salty, her blood was not at all sweet, the way she writhed on the floor, beneath Will Graham's clumsy hands, was so undignified. Garrett Jacob Hobb's disposed of her in such a wasteful manner, his eyes on his true prize. But his time to honour her was drawing to a close.

Hannibal could recall the moment that he stepped into the kitchen as clear as if it were repeating before his eyes. Garrett Jacob Hobb's body was slumped against the kitchen counters, his eyes on Will Graham with satisfaction lingering in the otherwise cold eyes of a killer. He was proud of his accomplishments. It was only when Hannibal's eyes came to rest upon the girl that Will was desperately trying to save that he saw the girl he had ultimately failed. Taking charge in order to play his part; Hannibal reassumed his role of an innocent bystander, stepping in to help. Lowering himself upon her, Hannibal's actions enabled Will to back away and take in what he had done. Gazing upon the fear and despair in Will's eyes, Hannibal was surprised to see how conscious Abigail Hobb's appeared to be. She was watching him. Feeling the blood that tried to escape from the deep cut in her throat, Hannibal applied firm pressure, his single hand enveloping her throat completely. Seeing the clear implications that Garrett Jacob Hobb's had been a hunter; he could see why Abigail held an appeal. Her blue eyes were exactly like that of a doe. Expressive, wide and open…She was pleading with him, her eyes appealing to his not to let her slip away into the darkness. Even as she slipped from consciousness, he remained at her side, helped the paramedics to sustain the bleeding and using his hand to hold onto hers. A reminder for the brief glimpses of light, that she was not alone.

He couldn't say why it reminded him of his childhood. He had become so adept at closing off the areas of his memory that he did not wanted to be reminded of, that he wondered how a girl as inexperienced and innocent as she were, could have gotten through the walls with something as simple as her eyes. It was in that moment that he knew things may not be quite a simple as the game he had planned.

As Hannibal walked up the steps that led into the house that had once been considered a family home, he considered the attachments that people held to such structures. Simply because of the memories that such places held. Yet as he walked into the living room and saw the place that Nicolas Boyle's body had fallen, he continued to reflect on that first day. He recalled her frail body in the ambulance, her ragged breath and sheer white complexion as she faded in and out of consciousness. He remembered looking over her; both intrigued and admiring of her determination to fight for her life. Even in her subconscious, Abigail knew she had to fight. It intrigued him. Even as he remained fixated at Abigail's bedside. She had no one. A wounded fawn. Alone in a world of hunters. Tonight; he would be her protector. Her guardian. Staying awake until the point of exhaustion, Hannibal eventually fell asleep – his hand all the while remaining upon hers. Just in case she awoke.

But alas, the sleeping fawn would continue to sleep on and he would have to return to his practice.

It would be rude to cancel on his patients, but as he looked upon Abigail's face, her features calm, he couldn't help the reflex squeeze he offered her limp palm. But as surprised as Hannibal had been by his own unintended action, it failed to compare to the light movement that followed from Abigail's hand in reciprocation. That small spark of life had affected Hannibal in a way he hadn't believed were possible. He had felt the life leave so many people in his lifetime and yet Abigail Hobb's was a life force he desired to see awaken. Looking down at his blood stained cuff, Hannibal could see the way that his hand overshadowed hers. So pale and slender in comparison…

Those thoughts would continue to linger in his mind, long after he returned from the hospital. During his working hours, however, Hannibal did not allow himself the luxury of thinking about personal concerns. He was a professional and dedicated to his work as a psychiatrist, even if that entailed listening to the repetitive and sometimes tedious problems that haunted the minds of those who entered his office. But once he was free of his obligations, his first thoughts were of Abigail Hobb's, and further, of his discarded clothes. Returning to his bathroom where they lay, Hannibal retrieved the shirt he had worn during the previous day. Pausing to look at it, Hannibal observed the blood, the pad of his thumb running over the fabric as a frown creased his brow. Removing his jacket, Hannibal rolled up his sleeves and lowered the shirt into the water. Spending his time washing out the blood, his hands kneaded into the material. He wanted to get rid of the blood. Her blood.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

As Hannibal looked out into the grey afternoon, he took note of the way the trees still awaited the growth of new leaves. A new cycle. Breathing a sigh, Hannibal knew he had to remain objective. His drive to Minnesota was almost completely consumed with his thoughts on the situation at hand.

Hannibal knew he had two paths before him. The question was; which was he prepared to take?

Jack Crawford was piecing together Abigail's part in her Father's crimes and Hannibal knew that Jack would stop at nothing to see her behind bars. Then again, Hannibal knew all too well the head of the behavioural analysis unit also wouldn't oppose to her death. Either way, the problem, as he saw her, would be dealt with. Since his escapades with the Chesapeake ripper, Jack had become obsessed with closure. So much so that it made him emotionally unbalanced in both his work and his personal life. It affected his attitudes towards the killers he sought and the team in which he relied on to catch them. Although he did not consider himself to be, Jack Crawford was losing a battle with the evidence of the crimes before him and the ability to remain objective of them. He was seeing the things that he chose to see, above what was really there. That would be his downfall.

Abigail Hobb's was a part of the only other case that linked to the copycat. Hannibal knew that Jack believed, if only he could solve one, it would lead to the answer to the other. The very thing that stood in his way however, was the one thing that Jack Crawford would never anticipate. Let alone Will Graham or even Abigail Hobb's. The feelings that this one girl had evoked from Hannibal had amazed the skilled psychiatrist. But he remained cautious. Abigail Hobb's was a weakness…one that he had allowed to develop over time. He would have never protected someone who had killed another, risking his own exposure, before her. Let alone continued to protect her when she had failed to keep their secret buried.

So why her?

It was a question Hannibal had been asking himself since Nicolas Boyle's body was uncovered. Why did he continue to give her the chance to prove herself to him? The chance to prove her loyalty; by keeping his secret, just as he had kept hers. Did he really care that much about what happened to her, beyond a need to protect himself? He was not the first to experience the circumstances that had befallen him. His parent's deaths when he was eleven years old or the looters that took his sisters life. He was not the first to lose relatives, or to grow with those traumatising experiences to shape him as a man. Of course, his experiences were unconventional, but then, he was an unconventional man.

Hearing the fumbling of a key clumsily clicking in the lock of the door, Hannibal knew the time for his decision was looming close.

Now here they stood. Hannibal Lecter. Abigail Hobbs. One; a serial killer blending his way in the world as a member of a pack and the other a doe, impressionable, young and inexperienced.

'If I run they'll catch me won't they…you can't protect me anymore,' Abigail began, realising just how hopeless her situation was becoming.

'They'll arrest you when they find you; yes…and Will.'

'Did he kill Marissa?'

'They will believe he did. They will believe he killed others too.'

As the pieces started to fall into place, Abigail's hands fell from Hannibal's, disbelief shrouding her face as she backed away.

'How many people have you killed?' Abigail questioned, fear lacing her voice as Hannibal stepped forward and took her hand, his fingertips lightly caressing the side of her face.

'Many more than your father.'

Looking into her eyes with nothing but honesty, Hannibal could see Abigail struggling to process what she had probably been aware of all along. But his confirmation of the acts he had committed was no easier to digest.

'Are you going to kill me?' she stammered finally, looking into his eyes as he stepped closer towards her and looked down into her fearful expression.

'I'm so sorry Abigail. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you in this life.'

Bracing herself for what was about to come, Abigail could already feel the racing heartbeat that refused to still, the sudden onset panic and Hannibal. His dark eyes pouring into hers, the wide blue doe eyes that emitted every trace of fear and emotion that she felt in that very moment. She was feeding him with it. As his arms shifted, one carefully slid behind her slender waist and the other around her fragile neck. Abigail knew he could feel the way her body shook violently in his strong arms.

'Shh…' he soothed as a sob escaped her throat, Abigail's eyes filling with tears as she closed them tightly, focusing on his words. Slow and gentle.

'It will be over soon, I promise.'

'I have to know one thing…' Abigail began, trying to blink back the tears as she suppressed a sob.

'Anything…' he murmured in return, taking in the light scent of her hair.

'What is it about me that makes the people I care about want me dead?' Searching his expression for answers, Hannibal simply smiled and put a hand to her cheek.

Running his hands through her dark tresses, Abigail could feel the cool steel against her neck before she saw it. She could feel it pushing down her silk scarf and pressing flush against her neck. Yet her scar felt as though it were on fire. Breathing heavy and fast, Abigail clung to his coat with both hands and waited for the inevitable darkness to consume her.

'Please…answer me…' she breathed, Hannibal opening his eyes to meet hers at her plea, his forehead against hers.

Sharp, hot pain seared through the side of her face in response, bringing Abigail to her knees as she lost the strength to stand. Yet Hannibal was close behind her, Abigail's hands still clinging to him, yet the harder she tried, the weaker she became in her hold on him. She was losing the fight to stay conscious.

'Hannibal…' she uttered, her vision blurring as the pain throbbed.

'Forgive me…' he whispered, his lips touching the tip of her ear as he offered words of comfort.

Seeing the familiar darkness that began to overwhelm her vision and balance, the pain slowly numbed her body. So why did she still feel like she was falling?

'Abigail…I told you that I am nothing like your Father. Believe me…I meant every word. You are something much more than you could ever comprehend.'

'Then why?' she persisted, tears slipping down the silk of her ghostly pale cheeks, though she could barely see anything through the darkening curtain that was fast removing Abigail of her sight.

'Because you do not deserve the life that fate so cruelly gave to you. As I said before, you are not a monster. I know what monsters are. I am a monster. But you, you are an innocent victim, one that has held my curiosity and attention from the day we met. You became an obligation, my responsibility and my responsibility you will remain…until your last breath…'

As the pain threatened to engulf Abigail, she felt for his hand and entwined her fingers with his as she tried to squeeze onto it with all the strength she had. 'Don't leave me to die alone,' she whispered. 'Please…if it's the last thing I can ever say to you…don't let go…'

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**Well, I hope I have done my job in leaving you on the edge of your seats wanting more! This is my first new fanfic that hasn't been an ongoing one in about two years, so I am very excited about starting it and I hope it comes across!**

**I would love to stay and say more but as it is 3:30am in the UK, I really need to think about getting some sleep! **

**Thank you for reading and to those who review, I will always be grateful to everyone who takes the time to read my work. It's always an absolute pleasure.**

**Goodnight!**

**~x-xMasqueradeAngelx-x**


	2. Her Protector

**Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to Chapter 2 of His Beating Heart. I had the fortunate experience of being able to write this chapter in beautiful Paris. After spending a week there for Halloween and Bonfire night I am now home and ready to share my newest chapter. **

**Hoping you all had an amazing Halloween and for any UK based readers, I hope you had an equally amazing Bonfire Night on Tuesday!**

**So please enjoy and if you do take a moment to review, thank you!**

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_Abigail didn't know what was behind her. She just knew she had to keep running. Feeling the twigs and branches that clawed at her skin, the ground beneath her was uneven and harsh as she tried to find safety. Instinct ran deep in her veins as she narrowly avoided capture from the dark figure that pursued her. With the darkness closing in around her, Abigail could see the light right ahead, through a thicket of trees. Yet she knew she couldn't go to it, she had to find another way…As the feeling of pain seared in the side of her head, Abigail became aware of the hot blood that seeped down the side of her face, but still she ran. Determined, not ready to give up. She would fight for her escape or die trying. That was when she saw it, Hannibal Lecter. He was on the other side a small makeshift bridge that permitted her access across the river that was between them, his hand beckoning her. His eyes were filled with concern as he observed the hunter behind her, his stance ready to strike if they got too close. She would not be prey to them. Not with Hannibal there to protect her. It was only as she reached his hand, however, that everything began to merge together, all blurring into one as Abigail struggled to maintain her balance. Yet Hannibal was there in an instant, breaking her fall as his arms held her, his breath steady and well paced as he now carried her. She could feel his urgency, it wasn't a run, but she knew somehow…he worried, wanting to get her out of danger, out of the darkness. To free her of her nightmares…_

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Incense, the light fragrance that hung in the air was a soft musk with a hint of sweetness. It was familiar. Comforting. As the aroma's shifted around Abigail's senses, she felt herself coming to, but upon trying to open her eyes, everything was clouded. She knew she must have been conscious for seconds, maybe less, before she slipped away again, her body not strong enough to support her as she delved into darkness once again.

The second occasion was more vivid, Abigail felt completely numb, any attempts at movement failing her as she tried to lift her head. Resounding herself to simply focus her sight, Abigail was aware that she was in a room different from that of her former home. Instead of being on her knees in agony, she was now lay out in a spacious double bed, adorning ruby coloured satin sheets. She was warm and for the moment, safe.

As her eyes flickered over the room, Abigail took in her surroundings silently, her chest rising and falling calmly as she gazed at the windows in front of her. Standing a couple of metres from the end of the bed, the three panes of glass had drapes of dark red velvet overhanging them. It was dark outside, with raindrops tapping lightly on the surface of the windows. It was a sound that Abigail couldn't help but feel comforted by, the sound of rainfall reminding her of the nights she spent curled up warm in bed as a child with the sound of the rain to lull her into a gentle slumber. Gazing to her left, Abigail took note of the furnishings that occupied the room. There was a large double wardrobe that reached almost to the ceiling, in a beautiful shade of cream with gold assents. With filigree designs rising to a peak in the centre, the other furniture was similar in design. Noting a dressing table with a large elegant mirror positioned upon it and a chest of drawers just to the right of the windows, Abigail felt as though she were in a dream. It was all so surreal.

The sound of rain however, was not the only one Abigail could hear. Somewhere beyond the room where she resided, a soft melody drifted through the walls. It wasn't anything she recognised…a combination of soft notes played on a piano. As she began to lose the strength to stay awake, Abigail went to sleep with the gentle notes trailing off in her mind, it taking her into a dreamless sleep for the first time in months.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

'Abigail…you're awake,' a deeply accented voice uttered. It was soothing, calm and almost tired. As Abigail opened her eyes more fully, it was still dark outside, her best guess being that it were the early hours of the morning. But the rain still fell as heavily as it had done the last time she were conscious. There were now dim golden lights on at either side of her, and Abigail knew she was not alone. Managing to turn her head to the right, she could make out Hannibal, seated beside her, his hand enveloped in hers.

'It's all over now Abigail, I have given you a mild sedative to help relax you,' he offered, Abigail feeling numb as she tried to move. She couldn't tell if she were alive or not, her mind telling her one answer while her body spoke another. Hannibal was dressed comfortably in a pair of brown trousers with a dark brown jumper that hid his white shirt from view, only the collar being visible with the top button undone for comfort. His hair was not gelled in place as usual but somewhat messy and unkempt. It was a side to him that she was not accustomed to seeing.

'Am I dead?' she managed to utter weakly, her voice hoarse and her throat sore.

'If we are; then God has been too generous to grant me your company,' Hannibal responded with a kind smile. 'But you are very much alive Abigail, to you and I, that is. To the rest of the world, you were another victim.'

'I don't understand…' she began, Hannibal reaching forward and placing a finger on her lips, her body reacting to his touch with a warm shiver, one that made her ache all the more.

'I will explain all when you are rested. Know that you are safe and sleep Abigail. You won't be found here. I made a promise to keep you safe and I have every intention to honour that.'

Looking into his eyes for a moment, Hannibal knew that Abigail was trying to think through the effects of the medication he had given her in order to ask him more questions.

'How long have you been with me?' she asked, Hannibal letting her wait for an answer as he helped her sit up to have a drink of water.

'It is important that you remain hydrated,' he remarked, Abigail complying and feeling the cool refreshment of it as the water passed through her lips.

'This time…about five hours…' he continued, 'you were sleeping rather well, I must admit.'

'This time…?' Abigail responded softly, Hannibal nodding as he settled back into his chair.

'Yes, it has taken your body a while to recuperate from your experience in Minnesota. For that I must apologise. I take full responsibility and I hope that you will allow me the chance to earn your forgiveness,' Hannibal responded, his genuine tone reaching his eyes as Abigail felt his hand wrap around hers again.

'So where are we?' she continued,

'In my home…we are in a room which has never been used by guests. Nor do I expect anyone is aware that it is here except you and I,' he replied confidently, the furnishings and style of the room making sense to her now as she settled back into the pillows, tiredness creeping up on her again.

'No more questions now, you need to rest and build up your strength,' Hannibal encouraged, Abigail looking to him with worry touching upon her features.

'But what about you?'

'I have slept in much more uncomfortable ways than this, I will be fine. Please don't concern yourself over my wellbeing. It is you that needs to be taken care of.'

'So you won't leave me?' she whispered, her fingers lightly tightening her grasp on his hand. He was her anchor. Yet she still didn't understand why he was going to such lengths to protect her.

'No, I will stay at your side as long as you need me.'

Gazing into Hannibal's eyes, she wondered why he was doing all this. Guilt? Obligation? Curiosity? Or was it a genuine desire to keep her safe?

With little time to reflect on it, Abigail's eyes became heavy as she began to fall asleep, Hannibal's voice wishing her goodnight being the last thing she could remember hearing.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Watching Abigail as she slept, Hannibal silently wondered how long it had been since she had slept without nightmares haunting her to the point that it left her waking up in terror, sometimes screaming, wishing for the pain to dissolve. He hadn't seen it for himself of course; but Alana Bloom was not unaccustomed to exchanging opinions with Hannibal. He had after all, been her mentor and as such, she respected his opinion quite highly, though she seldom said it. But that was of course the nature of Dr. Bloom. She kept her innermost thoughts to herself. Only choosing to confide very specific details that she was willing to openly discuss. Then again, he could not blame Alana for her methods. After all, he was not averse to keeping various details that held his curiosity from others. In fact, it was a quality in Alana that Hannibal rather admired. As his own psychiatrist had openly acknowledged, she only held conversations with a version of her patient and hoped that the real Hannibal Lecter got what he needed from those meetings.

But even he was unsure of what he sought from her in his last visit. He knew he could not divulge the full extent of his situation with Dr. Du Maurier. That was never a possibility. Yet he surprised himself through the tears he shed for a girl who was most definitely alive and residing in one of his guest bedrooms. It awakened something in him that went beyond the surface of his well-controlled emotions. It was deeper. Even as he dined with his well-established colleague in her home, he felt unsatisfied with those feelings that remained skin deep. Close to the surface. Especially with Bedelia's open remarks that pertained to his closed off lifestyle. She knew more about her patient than either of them was ever willing to discuss aloud. But somehow it suited them. She did not wish to know the details behind the veil that she would be required to keep, nor did he have any intention of allowing her to see too closely. He respected her as both his psychiatrist and colleague. Her death, therefore, would be a regretful one.

Even after hours in the calm atmosphere of his study, Hannibal continued to reflect over these unusual feelings that he was experiencing. It was distracting, and distractions were an inconvenience. Especially when he was indulging in one of his favourite past times…He was of course, a perfectionist. Everything had to keep immaculate detail. If it wasn't completely accurate, then it was not worthy of presentation. His most recent drawings were focusing on the study of birds in flight. Previously he had focused on birds of prey, but currently, his project was that of a phoenix. Open wings, free of restraints and able to fly with purpose to greater heights. Perhaps Abigail was becoming more of a muse than he had expected, influencing his artistic side.

Watching the sleeping girl before him; her hand wrapped securely around his, seeking the comfort and safety that only he could now offer her, Hannibal was reminded of the feelings that we're pressing into his innermost thoughts. He felt remorse... Emotional pain from the injuries he had inflicted upon her. It was necessary to create a convincing trail of evidence that would ultimately contribute to the arrest of Will Graham. But sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind. Abigail Hobb's would have no hope with the FBI perusing her. They would be relentless. But even if his deception of his friendship with Will Graham were ever discovered, the FBI wouldn't chase a ghost. Abigail was safe. Provided she could assume the role he would give her. He could give her freedom that and so much more. It was that, however, which Hannibal brought himself under question for. He had never jeopardised his position for the same person more than once. So why did Abigail still maintain his curiosity? Why did she spark feelings of guilt, obligation and even shame when some of the acts he had committed in his adult life were unspeakable in comparison? The answer, though he knew it, sat uncomfortably on his chest. He had developed feelings for her. This fragile doe that needed a stag to protect her…She was caught up in the misfortunes that her father's lifestyle choice provided her with and she was capable. Oh, so capable. As a smile touched his lips, Hannibal knew he could deal with whatever these feelings entailed if she proved to be as promising as he foresaw.

For now though; she would rest. He knew that the road ahead would not be an easy one for Abigail and at best, it would also be a risk for him. But he was willing to take that chance. She had survived the errors in her judgement, much as he had done in the days of his adolescence. But still, she was someone that Hannibal never would have thought to pass a second glance to prior to that first meeting. At a glance, very little stood out. But the moment he could see the open book of emotions that were contained in her wide blue eyes, he knew that she was something not to be passed off. Hannibal Lecter had been involved with many women in his life. Some he cared for, some he knew used him, but then he had also utilised them for his various needs. Whatever they may have been. Then there were the few that were just advantageous to him. So why did this girl seem like more than just an opportunity. He fully believed in his words when he had stated he didn't want a child or a legacy to leave behind. But he saw her as neither. His thoughts continued to move around his mind in an orderly fashion as Hannibal sat there in silence, the occasional twitch from Abigail's palm bringing him back to the present when it was most needed. Even then as he looked upon her frail sleeping form, he couldn't help but feel contented in knowing she was resting peacefully. If only for one night and in his company, it was worth that much.

Settling back into his chair more comfortably, Hannibal finally closed his eyes, a glance at the watch telling him that it was time to get some sleep. After all; it would be rude to greet clients with a tired body and weary mind. Abigail was showing signs of good recovery and even though she was not yet aware of the extent of her injury, Hannibal was quietly confident that she would pull through as she had done before. She had the capability and the strength; he only hoped that with his guidance, Abigail could become so much more than she had ever dreamed of. With one final smile touching his lips, Hannibal joined Abigail in drifting off to sleep, his hand never leaving hers.

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**I hope you all enjoyed chapter two, as much as I enjoyed writing it. **

**Chapter three shall be coming soon! **

**Thank you and Goodnight!**

**~x-xMasqueradeAngelx-x**


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